


Engaged to one, loves another - Johnlock

by OnlyForward



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, Love, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Stag Night, Wedding, requited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyForward/pseuds/OnlyForward
Summary: John loves Sherlock but is engaged to Mary (wait is this even fanfiction I swear this is canon)Angsty stag do etc etc
Relationships: John Watson/Mary Morstan, John/Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

There’s nothing John would rather do than get out of this wedding. This wedding with Mary. The words even tasted wrong in his mouth.

But he was trapped, now, right. You can’t just take back a proposal, not even when your best friend you were in love with unrequitedly comes unexpectedly back from the dead. It’s probably considered rude. 

No, he couldn’t climb out of this one now because Mary had said yes, and they were getting married now. Whether John truly wanted to or not. She was already ecstatically grinning about preparations, and the dates, cake, reception. 

But John just kept thinking about Sherlock. He was, and always has been, in love with the man. Seeing that face again had sent a jolt through his heart. Mary was a substitute for the man who’d returned feeling to his life. The man who, whether he realised it or not, had prevented him committing suicide those years ago back in the very first case. 

They hadn’t talked since the Proposal night. Or, as John seemed to recall it as, the Night He Came Back. So when Mary suggested he went to go and speak with him, he was reluctant. Sherlock would be able to deduce him, if he didn’t already know. Mary offering John up to Sherlock was a little oxymoron in itself. If she knew about them, their real bond, or at least the one John believed in, she would certainly be snatching John away from the other man. 

Asking Sherlock, “Be my best man?” had been painful for them both. Sherlock had questioned their friendship, even. John had just been cringing over the fact that he was marrying someone who wasn’t Sherlock. 

Sherlock, who had agreed reluctantly, a curl falling in front of his face as though his mask was crumbling right before John’s eyes.

Sherlock, who was now planning their Stag Night, plotting with Lestrade with that devious smile. 

Sherlock, with his cheekbones and pale skin and John just couldn’t take it anymore, not after the best man episode. No, he decided. He wouldn’t see Sherlock until the Stag Do. It’s better that way. No cases, just boring wedding planning. Boredom. No adrenaline, or fun. But if it would prevent him from launching across and kissing the man? Probably worth it, considering it would ruin their friendship and his prospective sham of a marriage.

The Stag Do was, in short, a disaster. Both men realised that their alcohol tolerances were surprisingly lower than previously thought. Lestrade never joined them because they got so wasted so quickly, and they returned to Baker Street in time to play some games. 

Sherlock had unfortunately burned Cluedo after the incident of July 20th, so that had been ruled out, and neither were of conscious mind to play monopoly. But John had stuck a post-it note with Sherlock’s name on the man’s forehead and Sherlock had stuck a name on his. The aim was to guess, but they both just stared into each other’s eyes as though they’d forgotten the point of the game. 

“Hey, Sherlock?” John asked, slumping back in his chair, game forgotten. 

”John?” Sherlock frowned. 

“Why...why am I marrying M-Mary? I don’t love her love her. I love someone else. And I think she does too.” John was confused, his brow was crinkled. 

“David,” Sherlock breathed. It had probably been obvious to him the minute he saw the invitation. Why was John kidding himself, he definitely knew of John’s feelings towards him. Sherlock had genius-level intellect, he could tell about flirting and emotions like that without even meeting the people. 

But fuck it. Sherlock was worth it, so he leaned over and kissed the man like there was no one else in the world he would choose. Sherlock cursed when John carded his fingers through his hair because, what the hell, John had always wanted to do that. 

“John- John. Stop, you can’t.” Sherlock pulled back. His eyes were pools, pools that screamed of sadness, of Carl Powers and Moriarty and a fear of deep water but that wasn’t relevant and he was still drunk and he had just kissed Sherlock, fuck. 

And they hadn’t spoken, not of it, or of anything. And now it was the day of the wedding and John couldn’t escape, couldn’t run away from this. He was stuck here, waiting for the moment to arrive. 

When he saw Sherlock in that suit he almost cried for he knew what it felt like to kiss those lips, touch that hair. He knew that this should be their wedding but yet he was marrying Mary, and it is what it is. It is what it is. 

But what if it wasn’t?


	2. Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock’s POV

There’s nothing Sherlock wants to do more than get out of this wedding. He’s watching the love of his life marry another, and worse, actively participating in it. He had to prepare a speech, one that will be very evident how he feels about the groom in particular.

Sherlock has loved John since the beginning. Not in a stalkerish manner, but after the killing of the cabbie, Sherlock had begun to fall for him. The domestic stuff helped, as well. John bringing him tea and coffee, trying to stop him smoke, giving him a jumper if he was cold. The little things. Sherlock wouldn’t notice them if they came from others, but with John it was like his drip line. 

John was obviously straight, so, it was unlikely that his romantic dreams would be fulfilled any time soon. Best to stick to the stuff that he could get. Until, of course, the rooftop, and the disappearing for two years. 

Bit not good, Holmes, on reflection. 

After all, you did come home to find the love of your life with a moustache, just engaged, and very angry and in a fighting mood. Bit not good. 

But Sherlock had never stopped thinking of John. It had been what kept him going when he was particularly beaten down, or about to get killed and asked himself whether fighting death was still worth it. But it was, for John Watson. 

John Watson, the man who complimented him at every turn and made him feel special.

John, who proudly called him his best friend and asked him to be his best man. 

John, who was getting married in a few weeks.

The stag do had come as a surprise to Sherlock, more so perhaps than John. Sherlock’s meticulous plan had gone astray quickly after John spiked their drinks with an extra shot. Alcohol tolerance measuring only works if it is measured with the actual consumption, not a farce. 

Lestrade was peeved off even after Sherlock explained they had been coming to get him. But that was okay, too, because soon he was back with John at Baker Street, shut up away just how he liked it. 

John had kissed him - the biggest surprise he’d ever faced - and Sherlock had been momentarily high. His brain had stopped functioning, all he could think of was John, John, John when he had pulled his fucking hair because there was nothing he’d wanted more, but then-

“John- John. Stop, you can’t,” the words had pained him to say then, and pained him to think about now. Surely it was the right move to stop them from doing something they would easily regret? So why did it feel like he had done the exact wrong thing?

He had saved John’s marriage that night, but also ruined their potential relationship and that was weighing on him. John wasn’t a man who cheated, not at heart. He would be loyal to Mary, and they were getting married.

He looked handsome in his suit - he didn’t often see John in a suit, but he held back the compliments because John was getting married, to someone else. Someone who wasn’t him, and that hurt too much to handle. 

They could’ve been great together. Maybe, if he hadn’t interjected during the stag night. Or if he had confessed sooner, or not died for two years. Or said yes, that first night in Angelo’s, if he hadn’t been too scared to get in a relationship. 

As he watched John say his vows, tears in his eyes, he came to the conclusion that it is what it is. It is what it is.

But what if it wasn’t?


End file.
